Right Now
by HermioneGirl96
Summary: A one-shot set during Christmas break of Simon and Agatha's fifth year at Watford. Even though they're not ultimately meant to be, they made sense as a couple once. T for language and because they're hormonal teenagers grappling with desire.


**Disclaimer: The characters belong to Rainbow Rowell.**

 **AGATHA**

"How does dinner sound?" Simon asks me. We're cuddling on the leather sofa in my family's den, catching up on the latest season of _Doctor Who_. It's bloody ridiculous that we can't have tellies at Watford, but, if the upshot of that is spending Christmas break cuddling on the sofa with my gorgeous Chosen One boyfriend, I guess I shouldn't complain too much.

"Dinner?" I echo. "Sounds like our next meal."

Simon runs a hand through his curly bronze hair. "No. I mean _dinner. Out._ A _date_."

I turn toward him so that my bent legs flop into his lap. "Since when do you have money?"

"I pawned some of my leprechaun gold."

"Don't let my mum hear you say that." I'm sure pawnshops are much too common for my mother. I think she'd be a lot more concerned about the Chosen One mixing with rabble than about the ethics of pawning gold that's going to disappear someday. Me, I don't care. I went through a shoplifting phase last year, after all. However Simon wants to get money is fine by me. Well, except maybe at swordpoint.

"Since when do your parents let me get a word in?" Simon asks.

I lean forward and brush my lips against his. "Who needs words?"

Simon kisses me, lightly at first and then harder. We open our mouths and our tongues tangle together. I'm so happy to finally get to do this. There's practically no privacy at Watford, especially since girls aren't allowed in guys' dorms and vice versa. I think Penelope Bunce has found a way into Simon's dorm, but I try to forget about that. Penny _is_ one of my best friends at Watford, and she and Simon swear they're not interested in each other, but it's hard not to get jealous.

When we break apart, Simon smiles at me and says, "Dinner?"

"Of course. Why _wouldn't_ I want to go on a date with you?"

Simon kisses me again briefly. "Let's get changed, then."

Simon rings for reservations using the home landline since he doesn't have a mobile. Meanwhile, I ask Helen for a lift to the restaurant and tell her not to cook dinner for us. Then we head off to our separate rooms to get changed. I put on a shimmery gold dress, gold earrings, flesh-colored nylons, gold stilettos, a gold necklace, and a cream-colored shawl. Penny would huff if she saw the stilettos, but being teetery is kind of the point. I have every intention of holding onto Simon's arm every chance I get.

When I'm done with my makeup, I meet Simon in the hall. He's wearing a tux he must have borrowed from my father, and he looks amazing. It's all I can do not to reach out and push the tux coat off of him and start in on the buttons on his shirt. I'm fifteen now and just learning what it is to _want_. It's tempting to ask Simon to cancel the reservations and take him up to my room right now, but there's also a part of me that wants us to be seen like this, out of our uniforms and looking so good together. (I know I'm pretty and I don't see the point of being modest about it. It's the one thing I have going for me.)

 **SIMON**

Agatha looks like a million quid, and I'm happy just to see her, let alone to get to take her to dinner. I pawned a lot of leprechaun gold, but I don't regret it in the slightest, not when the girl of my dreams is standing in front of me shining like the sun. I feel naff in her father's tux, but from the way she's looking at me I think I must look all right.

"You look amazing," we say in unison and then burst out laughing.

Agatha grabs my arm and I almost jump at the touch. _More, more, more_. I've always said that I wanted her from the first moment I saw her, and I always thought it was true, but _this. This_ is _want_.

 **AGATHA**

I kiss Simon on the cheek and then wipe the lipstick mark away with my thumb. I could use magic for it—Penny would— but I detest using magic when I don't have to. That's one of the things I love about Simon—he doesn't like using spells all the time, either. When he's not being attacked by that stupid Humdrum, he could almost pass for a Normal.

On the way to the restaurant, Simon sits in the passenger seat and I sit in the back, but he holds his hand behind him and I take it and entwine my fingers with his. We make conversation with Helen about _Doctor Who_ , and for once I feel smart, and I feel like Simon's smart. It's nice not being shown up by Penny for once.

 **SIMON**

Agatha holds onto my arm all the way into the restaurant. The contact is glorious. It's tempting to find somewhere secluded and just start making out, especially once we get into the high-ceilinged restaurant (lit by chandeliers) and I remember that I don't know the first thing about fine dining. Agatha helps me with the menu, though (and honestly I probably could have found the steak by myself), and I make it through the ordering process without exploding.

I expect the conversation to be almost as bad as the ordering, since I'm shite with words, but having just watched _Doctor Who_ helps. And then somehow we manage to talk about school, and I manage not to talk about my evil roommate, and for once in our relationship (it's been three and a half months now), it feels like I'm getting it—not _right_ , exactly, but a hell of a lot less wrong than usual. It helps that I think Agatha's looking at me the same way I'm looking at her. Like neither of us can wait for some privacy.

 **AGATHA**

I ring Helen on my mobile as soon as we finish dessert to tell her that we'd like to be picked up. Simon doesn't let me look at the check when it comes, but I know dinner must have been expensive. I wish he would let me pay. I'm sure my parents would give me money to go out to dinner with the Chosen One.

The drive home feels like torture knowing what we'll be able to do once we get home. We let Helen do most of the talking.

As soon as we're in the house and away from Helen, I half-whisper, "How does heading up to my room sound?"

"Like the best idea I've heard all day," Simon whispers back.

We run up the stairs, and it takes restraint not to slam the door behind us. Once I close the door, Simon and I stand there staring at each other in the half-light cast by the lamp on my vanity. We're breathless (maybe not just from the stairs). Then I kick off my heels and close the distance between us. I go up on tiptoes; Simon leans down, and our lips meet.

At first, we twine our hands in each other's hair, but then I push off his suit jacket and he shoves my shawl off my shoulders (a bit roughly, but then, all of Simon's movements are rough). Part of me wants to keep going, to start in on the buttons of his shirt, but not here. Not in my childhood bedroom. Not when my parents are home. Not when this is only the third time we've properly made out.

But _this._ Lips and tongues and hands back in hair. _This_. This is enough.

 **A/N: Reviews and favorites are lovely!**


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